Throes of Fate
by Ruairi J.L
Summary: "Time is an enhancement of Being. Never before has it been altered, and never again shall it." So says he who utters unto Eragon Shadeslayer his eternal destiny; the winds of time, wrought by magic, transfix and envelop those in their path. A Rider and his dragon, now bound to Middle-Earth, with the hidden knowledge that they have a Fellowship to aid, and a Dark Lord to destroy.
1. Chapter 1

_- You will know no relapse, suffer no release, yet drown in the agonising sea of countless eons, and thereby you shall fall-_

_**One – Agony and Her Humour**_

"What have you done?" Galbatorix asked, horrified. He stepped back and put his fists to his temples. _"What have you done!" _

With an effort, Eragon said: "made you understand."

A swirling, impassable mist of grey and white matter suddenly surrounded the young Rider, enclosing all his thoughts, all his senses, all his emotions into one melting pot of subterfuge and mental subjugation. He ceased to be one of coherent thought, and became a recluse of time, locked within the momentous struggle of his own mind to exist in a single space, a single artifice of the universe itself. He knew not, felt not and thought not, but was one and all with the enticing sensation of pain and fear rolled into a single breath.

Saphira shared his sentiments, both being one kindred soul locked in two separate beings, and together they fell into nothingness. Eragon fought for dominance against this unholy hold that the king had upon him, but found such actions were nothing but trivial, meaningless against the holy law of nature herself. Galbatorix had him at his whim, and was not in the process of letting go.

"Think you the only one who can manipulate the Ancient Language?" the king growled. "It bows to _me."_

"It bows to no one," Eragon said through gritted teeth, the very effort of speaking burning through his eyes and skull. He screamed aloud as white-hot fire began to arch its way across the back of his mind, scraping against the skull like a flaming sword. He fell to the ground, positively writhing.

"Thou shall be lost to the sands of time, swallowed by that infernal shadow of black abyss and hopeless end. Your screams shall echo through the ages, lost on deaf ears, to those who birth and die in tandem with the convoluting evil of mortality. You will know no relapse, suffer no release, yet drown in the agonising sea of countless eons, and thereby you shall fall. If you escape you will face a foe to whom I look meek by comparison. That shall be your end. And the world will hear Galbatorix has his victory, even in death eternal." The king smirked. "Well met, Eragon _Shadeslayer._ "Wryda, waíse néiat!"

Fate, be not.

"Saphira!" Eragon cried aloud.

"_Eragon, stay close!" _his companion mentally shouted.

With a pained cry, Eragon began to push an arm before him, clawing at the cold stone of the king's throne-room floor, every inch paining his joints and muscles with irrefutable agony. Galbatorix was being torn apart behind him, smiling a wicked smile and screaming together as his body was ripped to pieces, even as Eragon's protective spell made itself known toward his companions. But it did not affect him.

In desperation, Eragon slouched forward another few feet, grunting with his teeth bared as he did so. In the corner of his eye, Arya was calling his name and trying to reach him, but she could not penetrate the mist that was imposing itself upon the room. Something began to happen then; a distinctive whirring noise began to sound, almost deafening in tone. Eragon reached Saphira just as this began to build to its highest octave, and she stretched out a leg for him to grab as the sound popped out of existence.

Three things happened then. The king vanished with a puff of smoke and howl of fear, the mist vanished, and Eragon found himself falling. His eyes shut of their own accord as he collapsed into a pit of icy darkness. Saphira roared, awakening him. Eragon gave a gasp as the true magnitude of what was happening hit him. They were no longer in Galbatorix's castle, but falling through skies and oceans as one.

Eragon yelped as they stopped suddenly. The pain was gone, his clouded mind freed. With a rush of inspiration, he quickly climbed onto Saphira, nestling himself in the saddle she suddenly bore. A quick check told him Brisingr was at his side, but the Eldunarí had vanished, including Glaedr's.

"Saphira, where are we?" he whispered.

The world was smaller, squashed as though being compressed at its sides. Palancar valley was beneath the two, smaller than his old bedroom, and yet it was simultaneously bigger than ever before. A direct oxymoron, formed through the copulation of magic and time leaping to and fro without resolve. It was then both realised they were floating, not flying, and could not move, despite want of trying.

Next, Eragon happened to see that the world was pulsating, as though ready to burst. To what end, he could not say.

"_Little one, look!" _

Eragon snapped his eyes to the point she indicated, and they then bulged in shock. The poles of this gigantic little world seemed to be spinning, replacing one another continuously and alternating the geography of the land without stop. That was when they noticed various cities and landmarks were vanishing, even as chunks of the coast began to break apart, reform and separate from each other. The land was changing in its very structure, leaving no room for misinterpretation. This process started very slowly, much like the whirring from before, but now it began to speed up, and changes were so frequent he could not keep his eyes upon one before a thousand more took precedent.

The world began to spin as though resting upon a sword-point, circulating faster and faster. Eragon held his head and screamed as the dizziness became a pain so profuse his nose began to bleed. Whatever was happening, his body detested it almost as much as his mind.

With a _whoosh_, the spinning ending.

Eragon started when he saw the spectacle before him, and quickly made to draw his blade, only to find it stuck to the sheath through some uncanny spell. He tried to undo it, only to find he could not speak, or even think about the Ancient Language. So he quickly ducked under a sideways swipe from a massive great-sword, held by a deformed creature that looked rather similar to the Urgal, only more grotesque. And certainly more feral in appearance.

Eragon made to step back with his elf-like agility, only to find the blow hadn't been aimed for him. He gasped aloud as a steel-clad figure stepped _through_ him, parried the blow, and decapitated the creature with a backhand slice. Eragon tried to grab a disgruntled soldier nearby to ask what the blazes was happening, but found his hand passed straight through the distracted man's shoulders.

"Saphira, what is this?" he whispered.

"_...I believe we are seeing the shape of things to come. Or possibly what has already happened."_

Eragon fixed her with a dishevelled stare. "You mean... we've moved through time? That isn't possible."

Saphira hesitated.

"Saphira?"

"_I cannot say, little one. What do you expect of me?"_

Nearby, a tall, gaunt figure stood atop a pile of corpses and raised his massive sword skyward, bellowing what sounded like a call for victory. The men – and elves, Eragon realised – behind him heeded the call and roared in unison, bashing shields with spears and driving the Urgal-like creatures backwards. They seemed on the verge of winning this battle. In the background, an imposing volcano raised upon scorched earth erupted, and Eragon felt an eerie silence grip the combatants nearby.

"Just give me your best guess," he said. "I want to leave this accursed place behind."

"_It does not matter," _she said. _"We cannot interfere. The king wrought a spell that gave even me shivers, and Umaroth felt much the same before I lost the touch of his mind. If he truly discovered the Name, then he could quite possibly have sent us into the past. Or the future. I cannot be certain. Whatever we see we see for a reason, little one. But I know not of any volcano in Alagaësia, so cannot fathom where we may be."_

Eragon growled in frustration. He watched with trepidation as the front line of men and elves seemed to hunch together, then turned his gaze toward what they were staring at and uttered several choice curses.

"My gods!"

A menacing, iron-clad figure strode purposefully from the line of creatures toward the men and elves, armed with a gigantic mace. He donned an all-black set of armour, and looked like sin itself. What made him truly intimidating, however, was his absurd height. At least eight feet tall, he towered over the tallest of elves present, his spiked mask leering down upon them.

"And so came forward the Dark Lord Sauron, former servant of Morgoth, terror of the Second Age, bearing upon his forefinger the almighty Ring of Power."

Eragon whipped around, stunned to find none other than the hermetic Tenga at his side.

"What are you doing here?" Eragon exclaimed.

Tenga did not look at him, but kept his eyes fixed upon the... _man_ he called a 'Dark Lord'.

"I have halted your flow through time, Eragon Shadeslayer, so that you might see this moment. When you awaken you will find yourself besieged by questions and qualms alike, frivolous in nature and perturbed by the smell of air you have never before breathed. You must understand."

"Understand what?" Eragon asked, deathly silent.

"Time is an unusual enhancement of Being. Never before has it been altered, and never again shall it. Know that the world you enter has never been recorded in any history books, nor has it been prophesised by even the most learned of seers. It exists in shrouded myth and clandestine fabrication, yet cannot be overlooked. Its importance in shaping the world is matched by none, not even your conquest over Galbatorix."

"You know about that?" Eragon asked. He was utterly confused. Was that supposed to be Tenga's way of explaining things? It made him even more light-headed than before.

In the corner of his eye, a flutter of movement. Eragon looked around, finding that Sauron had swept a large swathe of men to one side with a simple swing of his mace. Eragon's eyes bugged out. His strength was incredible. With furious swipes, he began to decimate the alliance's lines. They could not get close to strike back, and arrows seemed to not hit their mark. Finally, one brave soul raced forth, he Eragon had seen with the abnormally large blade, and was smote with a single blow to the skull, caving his helm inwards and splattering his face with crimson.

Eragon felt a pang of sadness, despite not knowing the belligerents here. The man had clearly been a great warrior. To be swatted meekly aside in such a fashion was an unbecoming end.

"It is now that Isildur, son of the king, will take up his father's blade," Tenga continued. "From Sauron's finger the Ring of Power is taken, and with it, his life-force. When The Deceiver forged the Ring he bestowed upon it much of his strength, all of his will to dominate life, and his unholy cruelty. He is evil personified, darkness defined. Not even Galbatorix could hope to match the extent of his cruelty, and not even Durza could have embraced sorcery so malignant."

"What is he?" Eragon half-muttered.

"Neither human nor Elf. Not any longer. This world has been plagued by war for as long as most can remember. His master was a much worse tyrant, but Sauron is determined to tighten his grip upon the peace of all races until his Orcs utterly destroy all the allied races hold most dear. Eragon, look at me," Tenga said gravely, turning to face him for the first time.

Eragon tore his gaze from the scene as Isildur snatched the shards of his father's blade and cast off the Dark Lord's finger. "What do you want from me, Tenga?"

"This is the last time you will ever see me," Tenga said with a hint of sadness. "You cannot manipulate time, and neither can any kindred soul you happen to find in Middle-Earth. Do not attempt to make your way back to Alagaësia, or surely you will both die." He addressed both of them together.

Nearby, Sauron seemed to explode with a force that knocked over anyone and anything in the vicinity. His Orc army fled, leaving Isildur to gather the Ring as his own.

"What, you're saying we're stuck here!?"

"I am afraid so. And it is worse. You are about to be cast into a much graver situation than anything you have previously faced. So that you might comprehend the magnitude of what you are facing, I am leaving you with my knowledge of all that has happened in this world. This will all make sense soon enough. When you awaken, you will find your minds refreshed."

"Wait! Surely you can get us back? You're here, after all!"

A small smile lifted the corners of the hermit's mouth. "I am afraid that in giving you my knowledge I will be sacrificing my memories of this event. Never again will I know, speak, or indeed think, of Middle-Earth. But if you happen to find me as a young boy, do not attempt to teach me of myself. And if you ever come across my corpse instead, please try not to step on my skull."

Eragon choked at that. "Why don't you keep your knowledge and use it to get us back?" he demanded.

An Elf hurried to Isildur, telling the man to follow him quickly. Eragon watched briefly as both departed.

"My knowledge is not sufficient. Only Galbatorix knew the Name, and he is gone. It may happen that Murtagh knows it also, but I could not find him for months, if not years, of searching. He has already fled north on dragonback, and will surely conceal his location with powerful wards I could not hope to breach in a hundred lifetimes of trying. No, even with my know-how I have not the strength. I can do no more."

Eragon felt his heart rip. "But... Arya... the dragon eggs..."

Tenga rested a consoling hand upon his shoulder. "The Eldunarí are not with you, are they? Umaroth will tell Arya of them, and she can help raise the new Order. And she herself... do you think it would have had a happy ending?"

Eragon was reluctant to admit it, but knew the old man was right. He didn't have a chance of making it work if he was to raise the new Dragon Rider Order. "What should I do?" he whispered, voice cracking.

"Lose yourself in this world. You are now a part of it, and it of you. It _is_ your world, and as one of its subjects, you are pledged to defend it as you would Alagaësia: with your life, if necessary. I have stopped time here because it is a historic event, and you are to be dropped into an era several millennia on, where the Ring has been discovered and is in the hands of a Hobbit."

"Discovered? And what are 'Hobbits'?"

"You will soon find out, I promise you. Brightscales," he said, turning to Saphira. "I apologise for ignoring you during the course of this conversation, but I sense you already understand and it is imperative you and your Rider are on level footing."

Saphira snorted. _"I do, Tenga-elda."_ Her use of the honorific surprised Eragon.

Tenga nodded. "Good. Be warned: dragons are feral creatures in this world, used as devastating beasts of war by the Dark Lord Morgoth himself. They are feared and hated equally, but are considered untamed. Show them your intelligence, no aggression, and you will prevail. Shadeslayer, my time is almost up. Interfering with the king's spell has weakened me severely, and I shall die if I do not leave soon."

"What are you?" Eragon asked, wary of being rude.

Tenga smiled.

"_Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness, Where gates stand forever shut, till the world is mended."_

The words were familiar. "That's part of an Elven song."

"An old or new chant for exorcising demons, I do believe," Tenga said. "Who I am is of little consequence. But know this, my last piece of advice before I must depart:

_Faces of nine can you trust, I know not who_

_Save old Gandalf, and Aragorn-Strider too._

_Be wary of the nine men in black, _

_For they have in horror what in tender lack. _

_The Dark Lord sees all, lidless though he be;_

_He watches now, will remember us three. _

_Depart for Elrond and Rivendell hall _

_It is there you can help to save us all."_

"He'll remember us..." Eragon whispered. "How?"

"He is powerful beyond measure, although I have ensured certain words do not reach his ears. That would be devastating for us all. Yet do not underestimate him, as he will send his nine out after you. Farewell to thee both, Eragon Kingkiller and Saphira Bjartskular."

"Wait!"

But it was too late. Tenga vanished in a flash, and after a moment it was as though he had never been there. All was still, until the world once more began to spin, this time in the opposite direction. The armies vanished, the land disappeared, and Eragon's headache returned. This time he screamed aloud as pain overcame him, forcing him to his knees. Words of wisdom and strength began to fill his mind, and he came to know about the Ages of Middle-Earth, Sauron, the Valar, Morgoth... it went on until he could no longer cope. Saphira roared in pain beside him, filling his ears with pain as his mind was almost split in two by the sheer weight of learning that threatened to drive him insane. There was _so much_ to absorb, and it felt an impossible task!

Without another thought, he forced his eyes shut and collapsed against Saphira.

Their minds swam as one in an ocean of time and space gone by. Eragon could see, yet he could not find himself. He slept through the generations, yet they flew past in the dawn of a second. Saphira comforted him, and he her. It was as though his mind was being blown to smithereens, and then rebuilt upon the wisdom of the Valar and the immortal glory of magic incarnate. Winters cold and summers warm passed overhead, taking with them countless kings, queens and others of a noble virtue, yet of poor deposition. Even the meanest beggar could be the kindest at heart.

When he awoke, it had been but a minute, and yet it felt like centuries had rattled the very core to his soul. He found himself in a green environment, surrounded by trees and shrubs alike. Birds called to one another, even as squirrels and hares darted to and fro alongside the tumultuous undergrowth. This was a piece of nature that would not survive, he knew, if the Dark Lord had his way.

Straining, Eragon rose to his feet. He needed to get his bearings, and discover where to go first. Tenga's knowledge had not extended to include an overly-comprehensive knowledge of Middle-Earth's geographical layout. He needed to find Rivendell, but if what the old man had said was true, he would be hunted every step of the way.

"It's a good thing I'm a fair hunter myself," he said with a wry grin, those upturned lips rising a mite further as Saphira growled her agreement.

* * *

:Author's Notes:

Like everything I've published (I've deleted some things before), this will be written in conjunction with university work and other stories. Updates may be slow, but if my muse allows it I may blow through several chapters in the space of a few days. Anything can happen, so I beg of you to please be patient when it comes to updates. I plan to update at least once a month on current form, but when I get free time from June onwards that should change to several times monthly.

This will include references, lore and characters from the books, but the storyline predominantly belongs to that of the film series where and when applicable. It may be more appropriate to call it a mesh between both worlds. Hey, I love both equally.


	2. Chapter 2

_- "Oh, ho," Gandalf chuckled. "It is unusual that I meet an Elf who has not heard of The Grey Pilgrim. I spent many centuries walking among your kind, yet, forgive me, I feel that Hobbits are much more wondrous creatures." - _

_**Two – The Green Hills of Hobbiton**_

Eragon took a deep, drawn-out breath.

The surrounding air was rich and pure, supported by the vast ecosystem of trees and plants as far as the eye could see. And yet, he had an uneasy feeling. This forest felt old and bitter, as though it did not appreciate trespassers. Trees seemed to sway without the effect of blowing wind, and ominous creaks could be heard in all directions. If he didn't know better, Eragon might be tempted to say the forest itself was alive, but not in a normal sense; rather, it was as alive as any person, and more than several times as intimidating as the roughest Urgal.

He had walked for several miles now, following a twisting path of trampled ferns that matched the tracks of a simple elk. If he was lucky it might lead to a stream of freshwater, or possibly the crossing of a friendlier road. Saphira was scouting from the sky, but she had relayed no success as of yet.

"_I can see very little from up here. The clouds are thick and the forest appears to stretch many leagues, little one. Why do we not end this charade and leave?"_

"_We cannot,"_ Eragon said. _"You heard what Tenga said. I won't risk your life recklessly."_

Saphira snorted, diving through a thin smear of cloud cover. She landed beside him, the pair standing in a wide clearing. Aside from backwards, the trees appeared to be very compact, restrictive and tightly cropped together. The branches were sharp, and trunks appeared relatively smooth, with no handholds or rotting bark to climb on.

"_It would be a struggle to navigate this place on a good day," _Eragon reflected.

"_Little one, this is absurd. Even if we are seen, we can fight or flee with ease. Do not forget that."_

"I don't," Eragon said aloud, turning to her. "I... I don't know how to explain it, Saphira. I just have a feeling that we're supposed to be here, in these woods, on foot."

In short, Eragon glimpsed into the historical knowledge that burned its way through his mind, and he was afraid. There was too much to absorb in one go, so he had been forced to cordon off the information in an undisturbed room of his mind, so that it might be readily available when called upon. But the look he had taken revealed many facts, some good and more than a few untoward. If Sauron had truly sent the Nazgûl after them, that was a major problem. He wanted time to uncover more about his foe before heading toward civilisation, if it were at all possible.

"_Very well," _Saphira snorted. _"I'll give you your time, but if danger finds us, I will grab you and fly far away. I must hunt. The elk you've been tracking is with its own kind several miles away. There is a stream half a mile to the north. Stay in touch." _

With Eragon's nod of thanks, Saphira whipped her wings wide and took to the air with a massive leap. She soon ascended over the treetops to his left and flew out of sight.

Eragon ran his hand over the smooth trunk of a fine oak, admiring how it appeared to glisten like polished diamond. It was peculiar, to say the least. Frowning, he took a step back, folded his arms, and searched for a way through. After much thought, he grinned.

_Only one thing for it, really. _

Hunching down, Eragon stretched out his muscles and leapt as high as he could, reaching halfway up the oak he had examined. Laughing with a near child-like enthusiasm, he clambered on top of an inviting branch just thick enough to support his weight, and turned his gaze to the spot he had stood in only moments ago. At least twenty feet in the air, he could still not see over any part of the clearing, and thus decided to go higher.

He looked up and spotted a break in the trunk, noting that it split into two smaller vertices. This formed a makeshift 'Y' shape in the tree, and allowed him to leap up and land squarely in the middle. Now three-quarters of the way to the top, Eragon decided not to push his luck. He saw a path through the trees to the north without touching ground, and wasn't willing to risk traversing a much flimsier-looking piece of trunk just to see over the clearing. That really wasn't necessary when Saphira could simply carry him on her back later.

Moving with the agility and grace that only a dragon rider could bring with the practice of mimicking an Elf, the young magician made his way quickly through leaf and branch alike, until he came to a halt. The branch he stepped on was rotted, and crumbled under his foot. Yelping in surprise, Eragon began to fall, and reacted the only way he could immediately think of. He drew Brisingr, and drove it deep into the wood, so that it might be used as a handhold. The Brightsteel meant that it would not break even under his weight, and his strength was great enough to hang on.

Numbly, he stepped onto a more secure platform, still holding the hilt for support. That was when he realised something was wrong. He first heard, and then saw it.

A low, echoing rumble traversed his spine, even as it sounded throughout the forest around him. Then the tree began to shake. Violently, a branch clashed him in the stomach with a whip-like motion, and he was flung fifteen feet to the grass below. Wheezing as his breath left him, Eragon grimaced and rose to his feet. His back was going to bruise after that landing, adding to a long series of injuries he obviously still bore from the battle at Urû'baen.

"Damn it!" he muttered, looking up.

Brisingr was impaled above his reach, even at jumping height, and he wouldn't dare try to climb the tree again as it was. He crossed his arms and shut his eyes, thinking of a spell that would help remedy the situation. None came to mind.

Eragon sighed. "_Saphira, can you hear me?" _

There was no reply.

"_Saphira, stop playing games. I need your help."_

Nothing but deadly silence.

Eragon felt his heart lurch, and made his mind up in an instant. She wouldn't play such a joke. His mental link would alert him if Saphira was hurt, but not if she was at risk in general. He raised his palm.

"Jierda!"

The wood below his sword cracked, before splitting open as a hairline fracture. Eragon repeated this motion several times around the hilt, causing the stability of the outside layer to crumble. He dug deep enough to free Brisingr, and it fell to earth, spinning in mid-air. It landed point down. Eragon raced over and retrieved it, then hurried along the first path he could see that lead in her direction. The tree rumbled furiously behind him, and its anger was not to be abated.

Every branch and every leaf around him started to shake in unison as he ran, and roots began to slither across the ground in an effort to trap his legs, breaking through the soil with alarming ferocity. Eragon ducked and weaved as he ran, wondering when the stream would come into view. Hoping it was soon.

He cursed as he turned a corner, only to find a dead end. The trees had grouped together to form an impassable wall. Eragon spun to double back, but stopped in his tracks as the angry beings clasped 'arms' by snaking together. A brown wall of organic power was created before his very eyes, and Eragon found himself trapped in a circular prison, with very little daylight.

He was furious now. Saphira might be in danger, and that was more than enough reason to be aggravated. Besides attacking, he could think of one more option.

"Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal! Eka weohnata néiat haini ono! Wiol pömnuria ilian, losna eka!"

The trees did not move, to his great surprise. He could not blame them for being wary, but the Ancient Language was ubiquitous. There was no way to lie when speaking it, so how could they not believe his words? Did they not understand, perhaps?

"Fine. Brisingr!"

Brisingr erupted into flames. The predatory plants now gave off a disconcerted vibe, having seen firsthand just how powerful the sword could be, and now realising it was coated with a much more deadly foe altogether.

"This is your last chance," Eragon declared threateningly, raising his palm. The Gedwëy Ignasia burned red-hot.

Reluctantly, the branches and vines began to recede, leaving him a clear path and daylight to bask in once more. Eragon ran without another thought, his boots colliding with dew and breath still very much intact. Being half an Elf had many such advantages.

"_Saphira! Answer me!" _he roared.

The forest seemed to recoil in horror. Just what _was_ this powerful creature it had dared try to accost? Such an ill-informed move!

"_Eragon, be calm." _

"_What! Where are you?!" _

Saphira sent him both an image of a quiet stream and directions, which he promptly followed. He arrived at her location several minutes later, and found her finishing a meal of wild game. She looked surprised when he stormed over with his blue-metal-stick drawn. He quickly extinguished the flames.

"What in damnation was that?" Eragon demanded.

Despite her confusion, Saphira's anger flared. _"Careful, Eragon. You were the one who wanted to stay separated, not me."_

"I didn't expect you to ignore me!" Eragon said, sheathing Brisingr.

"_I did not ignore you, little one. There is a peculiar haze in the forest. Heavy air. It muddled up your senses."_

Eragon blinked. "How do you know that for certain?"

"_I know because you did _not_ try to contact me, and I can feel the residue in your mind. Allow me to help," _she said soothingly.

Eragon allowed her access and squirmed uncomfortably as his only friend combed his mind with a mental brush, scouring from his thoughts the peculiar residue of the woods he would never again willingly enter. She had been right, and he told her so. This entire area was unfathomably dangerous. They would both leave and stay together, and the latter would never change. As a friend, and as also decreed by their connection, Eragon loved her more than anything. He would protect her, and she him. That was enough for the both of them.

Eragon felt contented when Saphira was finished. He could think clearly, and was no longer blinded by undue anger. "Was that magic affecting me back there?"

"_It was certainly unnatural. But it appears many things in this world are unnatural to the two of us. Do I take it you wish to stay together now?"_

Eragon nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry for being so blinded. It's truly amazing how ten minutes can alter your perspective."

Saphira seemed amused. _"I have the strange feeling that this forest does not take kindly to any strangers. I believe it wishes to be left alone."_

"My power frightened _it_ away," Eragon said, unsure of what exactly 'it' constituted. A devious spirit, perhaps, or quite possibly the trees themselves. There were old Elven tales from both worlds of plants which could come alive, and he had firsthand experience of their peril with the Menoa Tree back in Ellesméra. This seemed comparable.

"_I would rather that did not become necessary again. Do you have any idea where we are?"_

Eragon sat at her feet. He lay back on the grass, thinking intently. It was better to be comfortable before attempting this, he had soon realised. He shut his eyes and opened his memories, diving headfirst into the muddled pile of images and thoughts that spanned countless generations. That proved to be a mistake, as an incessant avalanche of information bombarded his conscious mind with relentless aggression. Preening, he withdrew from the contact and instead began to search amicably for only relevant knowledge, a relatively fruitless task considering the countless numbers of books, songs and tales that had become implanted in his very essence.

"_It's... difficult," _he said. Tenga had not given him any instructions on how to access the knowledge safely. _"I can see dozens of locations, including several deadly forests."_

"_Perhaps if we flew you might find a landmark or two."_

Eragon left his mind and nodded. "Yes, anything to get out of this forest."

Ten minutes later, the two of them were hovering gently above the tallest trees in sight, and Eragon saw that the forest stretched for miles on-end. The weather was fine at that time, with a clear sky illuminated by a bright Sun high above. Nary a cloud was in sight, and the wind was very slight now. It was a perfect day for flying, in fact, but they would have to be careful. One slip-up could be disastrous.

"_I can see a series of barrows to the southeast," _Eragon said. _"Considering the feel of the forest, I recommend not going that way. Who knows what we would find over there?"_

"_I agree. The river appears to be massive. I think northwest might be our best option, little one."_

Eragon frowned and twisted around for a better look. "I can only make out hills and more hills in that direction, Saphira. Why northwest?"

"_There is a bridge down there also. If those truly are barrows on the opposite side of the forest, surely the road will lead to civilisation there instead. I can remain hidden, but you must find out where we are, and that requires speaking to the locals."_

Eragon shifted uncomfortably. _"I remember one thing distinctly. Mordor is to the southeast, though it's hundreds of leagues from here, I hope. The further away we are from those scorched plains, the happier I'll be. Northwest it is."_

* * *

Eragon stepped onto the road, careful not to lose his feet. In a place like this, there was no knowing where he might be swept off to. He had removed his armour and left it with his satchel near Saphira, instead donning a pair of dark breeches, a simple white shirt with gold trimmings, and a pair of light travelling boots. He threw a cloak over the top of that attire, including his sword and belt, before lifting the hood above his head. The effect kept his face hidden, something that would hopefully deter any potential threats.

He crossed a stone bridge running atop a pleasant stream. This was clearly a small portion of the huge river they had seen from the air, running genially throughout the surrounding landscape with a pleasant ebb and flow. As he walked, he could not help but be amazed by the difference in this area to the one they had just vacated. At first, there was nothing but more hills, and then he found himself wide-eyed as groups of men and women, with pointed ears, walked past, casting inquisitive glances in his direction.

These were no Elves, however. There was no chance. The tallest could not have reached his chest, and Eragon himself was rather short. They seemed cautious of approaching him, a sentiment he reiterated. He would need to talk with someone soon, but for now it was best to keep walking until he reached an establishment like an inn.

Then he saw the houses and stopped dead. The rooms had literally been built into the hills nearby, complete with chimneys protruding from the grassy banks above. It was a remarkable feat of engineering, even compared with the tree-houses in Ellesméra. Suddenly, a horse he had not heard nudged his shoulder, and he jumped in surprise.

"Careful, my dear man," said the owner of a rather simple wagon. It was filled with a various assortment of objects he had never before seen, but even more unusual was the owner. A tall, lean man sat there, wearing a grey cloak and pointed hat. His beard was equally grand, yet his age could only be guessed at. He could be called old, but appeared to give off a youthful energy that many lacked. When Eragon looked up he saw a contemplative expression, followed by one of shock. The old man studied him for several moments. "Forgive me, for I was not expecting to see one of your kind in these parts. Tell me: from where do you hail?"

Eragon blinked. The old man thought he was an Elf, with good reason. Still, he could not access Tenga's knowledge immediately, so his answer would be rightly assumed a lie if he could come up with an adequate response. Sometimes it was better to play the game than forfeit.

"I have nothing to forgive, friend. I only find it odd that one would ask of a birthplace before any names are exchanged. Mine is Eragon. And you are?"

"I go by many names, each as shrouded in mystery as the next. Depending on where you travel in this green land you may hear one, or possibly forty. However, you may call me Gandalf the Grey, or Gandalf for short. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Eragon, son of-"

"Brom," Eragon finished.

Gandalf frowned internally. He was unfamiliar with either of those names, yet he knew most fair folk in the company of Elves. There was also something unusual about this stranger, for he was annoyed at being seen, and had covered his face before Gandalf deliberately bumped into him.

Eragon, meanwhile, found his mind reeling. Here was one of the men Tenga said he could trust, for whatever reason. It looked to be a good thing he had travelled northwest after all.

"_Be careful," _Saphira relayed. _"Tenga's message aside, there is something strange about this one."_

"_I will," _Eragon promised. "Tell me, sir Gandalf, where exactly am I, for I appear to have lost my way?"

That settled it. This was not an Elf from Rivendell, Lórien or Mirkwood. Or any other home of the Elves on Middle-Earth. None would be quite so wayward. Gandalf had to find out who this person was, where he had come from, and why he was here, in The Shire, of all places. He felt drawn to the task, as though it constituted some great importance.

"Come, sit with me," he said, moving slightly to one side.

Eragon hesitated, before deciding he needed to do this. He nodded and clambered up past the horse, taking a seat beside the mysterious old man who bore a...

"Is that a staff?" Eragon asked, nodding at the object at Gandalf's side. He hadn't thought there was any real magic in those objects, but here, in another world, everything could be different.

Gandalf smiled kindly and gently restarted his cart's leisurely pace. "It is, and you, my friend, are no Elf or Sindar alike. Tell me, who are you? I am not one to pry in the affairs of others, but I must know what brings you to Hobbiton."

Eragon shut his eyes and located the knowledge quickly enough. The entire area was populated by Hobbits, the little folk he had seen. He also found some slight information on a Gandalf the Grey, a wise man who travelled the land and advised on many matters of high importance. He was greatly respected in all social circles, was vastly proficient with magic, and could be relied upon for wise counsel even at the darkest of times.

"My tale is a long and complex one," Eragon said. "I mean no offence, but it is likely you would not believe a word I speak."

"I have been walking this Earth for over two thousand years," Gandalf mused. "I have seen many wonders of the ancient world, some fair and some foul alike. If this is a test of my patience, know it is one I am more than willing to triumph in. I cannot promise to believe you, but I can promise to give a fair judgement."

"Two thousand years?" Eragon asked, in utter shock. "You're no Elf, Gandalf. How have you lived for so long?"

"Oh, ho," Gandalf chuckled. "It is unusual that I meet an Elf who has not heard of The Grey Pilgrim. I spent many centuries walking among your kind, yet, forgive me, I feel that Hobbits are much more wondrous creatures."

Eragon followed his gaze, finding a group of Hobbit children playing together. They ran over the hills nearby, playing a simple game of tag. Even merrier than the weather, the Hobbits appeared to have not a care in the world. Come to think of it, Eragon could see no signs of disorder or unrest in this community. They passed many houses and all sorts of Hobbits, yet none could be said to look scornful or disdainful. Unwelcoming, perhaps, but Eragon suspected that was merely due to a suspicion of outsiders.

"I'm not an Elf," Eragon said quietly.

Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows and cast a frown at the young man next to him. "You certainly look like an Elf, but I did not take you for one. Have you perhaps experimented with magic gone wrong?"

Eragon didn't answer that. "If I told you I was a stranger from a time far into the past, or an unseen chronicle of the future, sent here at the will of the Valar, would you believe me?"

"The Valar are powerful beyond measure," Gandalf said, not showing his shock. He had never before seen one such as this... _Eragon._ Not in all his years. "I have never heard of fetching through time, however."

"Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal."

Gandalf stopped the cart and turned to Eragon sharply.

"Those words hold great strength, master Eragon. But they are not Elvish, or any known language of the world. Even now I can feel my skin tingling at their power! I am afraid I must press you for an answer now," he said with a touch more warning. "Who _are_ you? And please, make haste with your answer."

Eragon had a better idea. Gandalf was proving to be strangely intimidating. Rather than speak, he reached out with his mind and touched the wizard's (as he proved to be) consciousness. Gandalf recoiled, before throwing up an impenetrable barrier and responding in kind. Eragon was dismayed when his defences proved worthless, as an attack of unknown origin isolated his ability to act, effectively trapping him inside his own body. With that, the contact ended.

"Do not attempt to touch my mind again, sorcerer," Gandalf said with a little menace. "I am forbidden to use such abilities myself, but if I defend myself it will not be pleasant for any concerned."

Both men stared at each other intently, the road suddenly quiet as no Hobbits were in sight. In acknowledgement of Gandalf's power, Eragon began to laugh. It surprised even him.

"Oh, that was strange," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Well met, Gandalf-elda. I am Eragon, son of Brom, sent to you from another time with my companion Saphira, who is hidden for now. I believe the being that aided our arrival was a Valar, but I am not certain. His name was Tenga, if it means anything to you."

"It does not. Where is your companion?"

"She isn't in The Shire, as that would cause undue panic, I'm afraid. Tell me: do you recognise this mark?" Eragon asked, showing Gandalf the Gedwëy Ignasia.

"Silver, like Mithril..." Gandalf muttered, examining the oval with great interest. "I have never seen its like, except perhaps for Elven tattoos."

"It's not a tattoo," Eragon said, shaking his head. "It's a mark that signifies my place in the world, only formed when a human or Elf touches their dragon for the first time. I am a Dragon Rider, or Shur'tugal as I said minutes ago, now graced with the strengths of an Elf, although I am still human... I think."

"Dragons have only ever been tamed by one," Gandalf mused. "He was a terrible enemy of the world itself."

"Morgoth."

"You know of him?"

Eragon nodded. "Tenga had somehow acquired knowledge of Middle-Earth. At the sacrifice of losing all he knew, effectively trapping Saphira and I here until the end of our days, he passed it onto me. I cannot access it all at once, for it is overwhelming, but I instinctively know certain things. I know of Morgoth and Sauron, as well as the nine-"

"Do not speak of such things here," Gandalf chided. "This is a peaceful land, and I would not have it blighted by any dark speech."

Eragon held his hands aloft. "I apologise. But I _am_ now a part of this world. A vicious monster of my own time used dark magic to ferry me here right before I killed him. Now he is dead, and no other has awareness of where we have come. Tenga, at least, made sure we knew what we would be getting into. He also gave us the names of two trustworthy men. One was "old Gandalf", and the other "Aragorn-Strider too"."

"I have heard all I need to," Gandalf suddenly decided, upon hearing Aragorn's name mentioned. This was clearly a serious issue, and he would not take it lightly. "You will come with me, Eragon, son of Brom. I have many questions for you, and tonight will provide the perfect opportunity. It is my friend's eleventy-first birthday, and we shall be attending the celebrations. I will introduce you as a friend from Rivendell. Do not blow that cover, and for pity's sake, do _not_ mention that there is a dragon nearby. I sense no evil in your heart, no malcontent in your will, but dragons are feared beasts in this world."

"They are mighty creatures," Eragon agreed. "I feel I should tell you that Saphira is as smart as the wisest of scholars. She cannot speak, but we have a connection through our minds, and I can hear her thoughts as if they were words spoken directly inside my head. It's an essential part of our connection."

"It sounds as if the two of you share a single soul," Gandalf said with a smile.

"I believe we do. _What do you make of him?" _

"_He is both wise and powerful for seeing how you can be trusted so easily. Unless he is incredibly foolish," _Saphira said.

"_I do not believe he's foolish in any degree," _Eragon said. _"He managed to subdue my mental probe without so much as breaking a sweat, yet it appears he's bound by rules and regulations of magic."_

"_As are all magicians, little one. I consider him trustworthy, but be cautious."_

"_I shall."_

"Conferring with your friend?" Gandalf asked, as Eragon returned to the land of the living. "Well, can I be trusted?"

Not seeing any point in lying, Eragon nodded. "We both agree you're trustworthy, but that only emphasises the need for caution. I only got here this morning and I've already encountered an old and powerful wizard, not to mention trees with a mind of their own."

"Ah, it sounds as though you were lost in the Old Forest," Gandalf chuckled. "That was not the wisest path, I fear."

"It's not as though we meant to-"

The cart stopped again. Eragon raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Gandalf, who was looking over his shoulder. Eragon looked around him and saw a relatively young Hobbit, standing on the edge of a hill beside the road. He wore a simple, yet fine tunic, and had long curls of brownish-black hair. His expression seemed to be one of annoyance, and he stood with folded arms, glaring down at the two of them.

"You're late," he declared flatly.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. And nor is he early. He arrives _precisely _when he means to," Gandalf said stiffly.

After a tense silence, Frodo's face broke out in a grin. Gandalf began to chuckle, and soon the two of them were laughing aloud. Frodo practically threw himself at Gandalf, worrying the horse for a moment. Eragon was almost knocked out of his seat.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Gandalf!" Frodo declared happily. "I'm sure the children will be anxious to see your fireworks."

_Fireworks? _Eragon thought. He looked at the back of the cart. _They must be those unusual objects in the back. They sound like siege weapons. I hope they're not dangerous._

"It's good to be back, my dear boy," Gandalf said. "You didn't think I'd miss your uncle Bilbo's birthday, did you? Come on, up you get! There's plenty of room."

Frodo clambered into the wagon. Eragon was amazed that there was enough room to accommodate the three of them. It was probably the use of magic on Gandalf's part. Frodo only then noticed him for the first time, and his eyes widened.

"Frodo, this is Eragon from the house of Lord Elrond in Rivendell. He wanted to see The Shire before passing into the West, so I decided to bring him along for the occasion. I hope your uncle will not be put out at all," Gandalf said.

"Oh, not at all!" Frodo said happily. "Half The Shire's invited to his party. And the other half is turning up anyway!"

"That'll please him," Gandalf laughed.

"He has the whole place in an uproar. All the little ones only have an eye and an ear out for your fireworks, though. Even Merry and Pippin."

Gandalf grumbled good-naturedly as the cart turned a corner, bypassing several little farms. Eragon was frankly amazed at the happiness of the people here. Frodo seemed very boisterous. He was almost certain the older ones were the exact same. It would almost be an ideal place to live, had he not a vital quest to see through.

On cue, a group of children came running up the path behind them, screaming Gandalf's name and asking him for fireworks. Now utterly incensed by what these could be, Eragon diverted his attention to the old wizard, who didn't seem to hear them. Then he grinned at Frodo's chiding look and tapped his staff. With that, several of the smaller fireworks at the back of the cart exploded in a shower of red and golden light, majestically creating patterns of spirals and illuminating flowers that had the children cheering and shouting in delight.

Eragon smiled. He turned back to their new guest, feeling oddly welcoming. "It's good to meet you, Frodo Baggins," he said, proffering a hand.

Frodo eagerly took it, delighted at finally being able to meet a real Elf. "Sam will surely be piling you with questions, Lord Eragon."

"Please, it's just Eragon," the young Rider said, waving a hand in dismissal. "And I'd be more than happy to answer any questions, if Gandalf permits it. He's in charge here."

"We can talk about that later," Gandalf said in a knowing tone. Frodo did not seem to notice, as he was too busy counting the number of fireworks in the back.

"You certainly have a lot here, Gandalf."

Whilst leaning back, Frodo stretched out a foot, and Eragon almost recoiled. He didn't view the Hobbit's incredibly hairy feet as abnormal, but it was certainly unexpected. Orik would have been proud. Then he realised something.

"Tell me, Frodo: do all Hobbits tread barefoot?"

Frodo sat upright once again and nodded. "It's natural for us. Hobbits have stronger feet than most, so boots are seen as unnecessary. Stone, glass, hot earth... none of them hurt us."

"Most impressive," Eragon said, nodding appreciatively.

"Many may be wary of Lo- of Eragon," Frodo told Gandalf. "You've been officially labelled a disturber of the peace, you know."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? Good gracious."

"Before you came along we Baggins were very well thought of. Never had any exciting tales or adventures," Frodo said, half-hoping for a story.

"If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved. All I did was give your uncle a _little_ nudge out the door," Gandalf said, toning it down more than a _little._ He also shot Eragon a look after mentioning the word 'dragon', for the Rider seemed about to speak.

Eragon was curious, but did not press the issue.

"In any case, I'm glad you're back," Frodo said, stepping down. "I'll see you both later."

Eragon nodded in goodbye.

"So am I," Gandalf whispered, smiling at the peaceful scene. The weather was still impeccable, but now things looked even more at peace with nature. Farmers worked away in their fields, while smoke billowed from a few chimneys nearby. A mill was spinning nearby, and fresh water was flowing all the while.

"_You should see this. It's beautiful."_

"_I can. Look up."_

Eragon did so slowly, and only saw a dark shadow atop the highest clouds due to his much improved vision.

"_Just be careful. I have no idea if you can be seen or not. Hobbits certainly aren't human. Did you see his feet?!" _

Saphira laughed internally.

"And here we are," Gandalf said, stopping outside a small gate. It bore a sign with the words "No admittance, except on party business" in fanciful writing, and led to a round green door with a black door knob in the centre. Gandalf dismounted, and Eragon followed suit.

"Gandalf, I-"

"We can talk later, Eragon. For now, feel free to enjoy the hospitality of the Hobbits, for I guarantee it is an experience you will never have encountered in your own world, or in any other."


	3. Chapter 3

_- "Be brave, little one." -_

_**Three – The Hospitality of Hobbits**_

Bag End, the home of one Bilbo Baggins, was certainly easy on the eyes. It was lavishly decorated, with some truly beautiful wooden furniture and patterns woven into the elaborate designs. It gave a great feeling of being 'homely', although it _was_ a little on the small side for Eragon. He tried to ignore this as he stood inside the front door, almost reaching the rafters, by examining the countless maps and scrolls spread across a bunch of nearby coffee tables.

Indeed, Eragon reckoned the whole of The Shire could inspire even the poorest of artists for centuries without fail. It was a truly wondrous place, and if the hospitality Gandalf had spoken of matched the aesthetics he was in for a real treat. Bilbo was currently storing their cloaks, as well as Gandalf's staff and hat. The area wasn't tidy as such, but that was more to the good. Eragon had never been meticulous enough to care for pristinely-set surroundings. As a farmer, a little bit of mess helped him feel more comfortable.

"_This... this is the sort of place where I could settle down,"_ Eragon said to Saphira.

"_Perhaps, but there are important matters to be dealt with beforehand. I know not why, but I feel bound by some unknown duty to ensure our quest is completed."_

Eragon mused for a bit. _"Well, Tenga did say we are now part of this world and it us, so that might have an effect. Who knows for sure?"_

"_Even by the standards of your kind, these are tiny creatures," _Saphira remarked. _"They remind me of ants in their little hills." _

"_Don't intimidate them," _Eragon scolded with good nature.

"_Hmph."_

"Very sorry about that!" Bilbo declared, scurrying back into the room. "I didn't expect you, or an Elf! I just had to put the kettle on. Would you like some bacon? Eggs, perhaps, master Eragon?"

"Just tea, thank you," Gandalf smiled.

Eragon was impressed. Bilbo was awfully accommodating for a man... err, Hobbit, whom he had only met two minutes ago. He was also very energetic for a man of one hundred and eleven, bustling about the house with great vigour and constantly rhyming off a repertoire of food commodities for them to enjoy. Eragon wouldn't have minded something to eat, but Gandalf declined, and it would have been rude to overrule that with a request. Besides, he was sure there would be food and ale at Bilbo's party that night.

_I can wait_, he thought, despite a rumbling stomach.

"Don't starve yourself on my account," Gandalf said, without looking up from the map he was now poring over.

"I'll live," Eragon said with a roll of his eyes.

"So, what brings you to The Shire, master Elf?" Bilbo asked, returning once more and virtually pushing them into the dining room. Eragon took his seat without protestations, finding it not uncomfortable, but a little on the small side. A mug of steaming hot tea sat before him, whilst the kettle boiled over the fire behind him for refills.

"Oh, I'm just accompanying Gandalf. I've never been to such a marvellous land before, and now I regret that, having seen it firsthand," Eragon said.

"Do you come from Rivendell? Or perhaps Mirkwood?" Bilbo asked with interest.

"Rivendell," Eragon said, shifting a little uncomfortably. He didn't like all the lies, especially not when the Hobbits were such a merry band of people. But they were necessary. He took a drink, finding it nicely sweet and warm, not scorching.

"I prefer the house of Elrond to that of Thranduil," Bilbo said. "I had some bad experiences with the latter some time ago."

"You say 'some time'," Gandalf said, cutting the conversation off, "but you don't appear to have aged a day in that half-century, my friend."

"Oh, pfft," Bilbo scoffed, waving a hand dismissively as he abandoned the kettle and sat down. "I feel young, Gandalf, but I know my years are catching up with me. Before they do, I want to travel again. I want to see _mountains_, Gandalf, and other places like Laketown too. Then maybe I can find somewhere quiet to finish my book."

"So you mean to go through with your plan, then?" Gandalf asked.

"Hmm, yes, I think so," Bilbo said. "I'll be leaving everything to Frodo and departing in the morning, I think, if all goes well. Anyone care for some sponge cake?"

"No, thank you," Eragon said.

"Well... you don't mind if I eat, do you?" he asked, now chewing on a mouthful of bread.

"No, not at all," Gandalf said. "One thing you'll learn, Eragon, is that Hobbits love to eat and drink. They have a great metabolism."

"I see," Eragon said, reflecting upon this. "Just like the dwarves I know. They were great for telling drunken stories and-"

Gandalf cut him off with a look.

"You got on well with the dwarves?" Bilbo asked with a frown, which quickly turned into a wide grin. "You must be one of the lucky ones! Every time I've seen both in the same place they've been at each other's throats!"

Eragon breathed an internal sigh of relief at Gandalf's rescue. But if there was some animosity between those races in Middle-Earth it could be rather problematic. He was hoping for the support of all who opposed Sauron, so any type of division would only serve to undermine a mutual cause.

_And there again runs my mind with thoughts of its own. I'll consider being forthright a good thing, but discretion might be amenable at the same time._

"Bilbo Baggins! Open up that door!"

Eragon jumped at the unexpected voice. That was nothing on Bilbo, however, who almost dropped the plate he was holding and flattened himself against the wall.

"It's the Sackville-Bagginses," he hissed, peering through the window. "I'm not at home."

"Wishing it won't make them go away," Gandalf said.

Bilbo snorted. "If only. They're after the house, you know."

After a few minutes, the Hobbit's overly-loud relations departed, and he breathed a sigh of relief, or possibly several in quick succession.

"I've got to get away from these confounding relatives of mine! All they do is hang around the doorbell all day, hoping to torture me into giving up the house! It won't happen, blast it!" Eragon was surprised. Bilbo seemed quite on-edge after that little event.

"That sounds unreasonable," he said, frowning. "Would you like me to have a few words with them, Bilbo?"

"Eh, no thank you, Lord Eragon. It wouldn't do to scare them witless."

Eragon sighed and raised a hand. "Please. It's just 'Eragon'. I need to let that be known. And as you wish, Bilbo, though I feel you should deal with the situation before it spirals out of control."

"Oh, I will," Bilbo said, smiling again. "My departure should remedy that nicely. They wouldn't dare try and accost Frodo, not since he'll be here for many years and has that incessant gardener watching his back."

"His gardener?" Eragon asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, Samwise Gamgee," Gandalf chuckled. "He sticks to Frodo like a bee to honey, I daresay. And yet, for one so protective, he can't work up the courage to speak to the woman of his dreams!"

"_That sounds like someone else I know," _Saphira said smugly.

"_You mean yourself and Solembum?" _Eragon bantered back, and she let out a mental huff. Eragon smirked.

"He has a timid nature, to be sure," Bilbo said. "Many Hobbits are renowned for being wary of outsiders, and anything that might disturb their daily routine. All the same, that means we're usually very good planners, and stick together through thick and thin."

"And the Sackville-Bagginses?" Eragon asked, careful to not be rude.

"They're an oddity," Bilbo muttered, not keen on the subject. "The less I see of them, the better for us all. Anyway, I'll be free of them soon enough," he said, immediately his dapper self once more.

Eragon screwed up his face with amusement. "For someone who belongs to a race of hermetic people, you certainly love talking of adventure."

Bilbo shrugged. "It's a bug, but a rather pleasant one, I must say. I wasn't keen on adventuring when I first started, but did come to love it. The feel of the open wind on your face, traversing mountains and hills, taking in the scenery... ah, it would be the most wonderful thing, if it were not undermined by the loss of friends."

"Yes," Gandalf said with a touch of sadness, "the roads can be a dangerous place, as the Dwarves of Erebor knew all too well. Do you still mourn those who passed?"

"Not as much as before," Bilbo said, shaking his head. "I miss them all, but Thorin, Fíli and Kíli have since found peace, I like to think."

"I fear more may follow," Gandalf said. Eragon straightened. Was Gandalf about to finally let him speak?

"But this is not the time for such talk."

Eragon was disappointed. "Gandalf-"

"Later, Eragon."

"This is important. I have one thing to ask, and I'll let it lie after that. I agreed to accompany you here, so per chance will you repay kindness with kindness?" Eragon asked, hoping to draw on the wizard's sense of principle.

"Very well," Gandalf said, wrinkling his brow. "Bilbo, I would not want to blight your birthday with talk of evil. Do you have any pipe-weed, I wonder?"

"Yes, of course," Bilbo said. "And never fear. I know the matters of Elves are not for all to know. I'll go and hunt it out, and then meet the two of you on the porch outside. Take the time you need."

With that, Bilbo left. They did not speak until he had found the tobacco after some searching, and then closed the front door behind him after leaving.

"There, we are alone," Gandalf said. "Tell me, what is troubling you?"

Eragon let out a deep breath. How to simplify it?

Nodding to himself, he said: "Gandalf, when I came here, it followed a vision. Tenga stopped the wheel of time as Isildur cut the Ring of Power from Sauron's very hand."

Gandalf's eyebrows rose. "You were there? You actually saw this event take place?"

Eragon nodded. "Yes. I saw him defeat the Dark Lord, saw his armies scatter... and thought it over. But Tenga told me, for it was he who halted time, that the Ring endured. He said it is in the hands of a Hobbit now, and yearning to return to its long-lost master. Is the Ring here?"

Gandalf sighed, and studied the opposite wall for several long moments. When he spoke again, it was with more than a hint of trepidation. "I cannot deny you have knowledge of this event, for even I did not see it occur, yet you seem to know intimate details. But how would Tenga have known where the Ring is?"

"I can't answer that," Eragon said, spreading his hands with empathy. "Maybe I should have told you when we first met, but I feel an attachment to Middle-Earth, as if it is my home. You know that, but what you do _not_ know is that I aim to see Sauron finished. He is a wild beast, and must be put down as such. From what I understand, the Ring must be destroyed for that to happen."

"I have seen no Ring of Power here," Gandalf said, "save the one I wear on mine own finger. If it has escaped my notice I will feel greatly foolhardy."

"Do Hobbits exist anywhere else in the world?" Eragon asked.

"Some may be spread across places such as Bree, but for the most part they reside here alone. They keep to their own, remember," Gandalf replied.

Eragon nodded. That was true. The odds were overwhelmingly in favour of the Ring being in The Shire, in that case. _If _Tenga had been correct, although he hadn't been wrong about anything yet. "We have to find it, if it's here."

"Tenga may have been mistaken."

"Maybe, but is it worth the risk? The Ring has been lost for centuries, has it not? I would have thought you'd be jumping for joy at this opportunity," Eragon said with confusion.

"Yes," Gandalf said uncomfortably, "but if the Ring is truly here it spells out a dark time ahead, and many people are not ready to face that eventuality. The Elves are weaker than they ever have been, Gondor and Rohan have been decimated by bad fortune, and the Dwarves are more preoccupied with their mines than the fate of those above them. The timing could not be worse. Sauron's last rule almost destroyed everything around us, and the land has only started to truly recover in recent times. Too many lives were lost for the process to have been any quicker, regardless of race, and each of those has suffered elsewhere to boot.

"But you are right... the Ring must be found, not that we haven't searched. Isildur lost the Ring when he was slain, and that was the last time it was seen by any person of note. If it is here, this will be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"Good. So, when do we start?" Eragon asked, clasping his hands together. He half-envisioned a door-to-door search, as impractical as that may be.

"If the Ring is hidden, it has a good reason for being so," Gandalf said mysteriously. "We must wait for it to come to us, or else its bearer may flee."

"You speak of it as a sentient being," Eragon noted with caution.

"It has a will of its own, and a very different set of tools to accomplish its goals, but the Ring is no less dangerous than an entire army of foul Goblins. Even if we do find it, tonight, I would have to ride for Minas Tirith, to discern whether or not it is real."

Eragon searched for a moment, then did some quick calculations. "Mina- hold on, that would take you weeks, if not longer! Don't you get it? Sauron saw me. He _saw_ me, Gandalf! Tenga made sure he couldn't hear what we were saying, but he could do nothing about his 'eye', whatever the blazes that meant. And since he did see me, he also knows Saphira is here. Tell me true: will he search for us, or not?"

"This is most troubling," Gandalf said, looking concerned. "Sauron would send his Ringwraiths after you, were he not searching for the Ring already. At the very least, he does not know you are in The Shire. No, Eragon, I would hazard a guess that you are safe here, for the time being. He will look to the Elves first if he caught a glance of your appearance, and then scour the rest of Middle-Earth. Since you are so adamant to aid in our fight against him, allow me to help you. I sense great strength in your will, and hope in your heart. You and Saphira will make a huge contribution to undermine the war he is planning.

"Give me but an hour, and I shall have warned the Elves of what has unfolded. Fear not, for I shan't divulge any secrets you prefer to remain as such, although I would emphasise a proclivity for trust in these circumstances, if you deem it possible. Tell Bilbo I shall meet him at the party, and hopefully I will then have some answers for you."

Finishing his talk on that note, Gandalf stood up straight, taller than many men Eragon had ever seen, and left the room. Eragon saw that he was gone after turning his gaze for a second, though he hadn't heard the door open.

"_Saphira?"_

"_Yes and no, in that order, to your questions, little one."_

Eragon nodded. She agreed they were safe for a while in The Shire, but did not think it could last very long either. The last thing either of them wanted to do was put the Hobbits in harm's way.

_Although I suspect that harm may be inevitable before too long, _Eragon thought.

Sighing, he rose and left to join Bilbo Baggins.

* * *

Eragon winced as an explosion shattered the night air.

That in itself would have been loud enough, but the cheers of delight from the Hobbits around him were deafening when coupled with the bang. To be blunt, Bilbo's party was in full swing. The field down the hill from Bag End was packed with hundreds, filled to bursting, and more continued to arrive. Loud, festive music was being blared from a variety of instruments, many of which Eragon couldn't even attempt to name. With his sensitive hearing, he found the level of noise close to intolerable, as pleasant as it was.

"_Sometimes I hate having enhanced senses."_

"_Don't lie, Eragon. We've had to do enough of that recently as it is."_

Eragon scoffed and took a mouthful of ale. For the most part, the Shire-folk avoided him, clearly wary of the 'mysterious Elf', although some did wonder how many esteemed friends Bilbo Baggins really had. The list appeared endless to all concerned.

"_I aim to save the world, and here I am, mingling at a birthday party."_

"_Mingling, not grumbling," _Saphira said. _"Try being in my position. I've only had a single sheep to eat in the past day, and that was fortuitous enough."_

"_I'll save you some meat, if I can scrounge any," _Eragon promised.

Truth be told, there was more than enough food to go around, although, if the Hobbits truly did like to eat as much as Merry and Pippin were proving, that might prove unyielding. Frodo had introduced Eragon to his cousins, along with Samwise Gamgee, who had been enthralled at the prospect of meeting an Elf. Although rather timid, Eragon had to fight off a barrage of questions from the trio over a period of several hours.

And now, here they were. For the moment, the tables were laden with innumerable platters of food and ale, and the air was heavy with cheerful talk and pipe smoke. Seeing that he had no aversion to drinking ale, Pippin offered him a small amount of Longbottom Leaf, which he accepted reluctantly only because of the Hobbit's insistence. Now, he might become addicted. It tasted and smelled very sweet, much unlike the tobacco Brom had smoked.

Arya would have been shocked, and Oromis probably would have chided him, but Eragon found himself strangely relaxed, and actually grinned at the thought. Merry had even given him a spare pipe. He had refused Bilbo's offer of one earlier, and was content to hear the older Hobbit's stories of The Lonely Mountain alone. But now...

_Oh, for the love of... _Eragon thought grumpily, suddenly realising what he was doing. Unfortunately, he chose that exact moment to also inhale, and ended up spluttering indignantly.

"Lord Eragon, are you alright?" Pippin asked, while Merry hit him on the back.

Eragon stopped then, and managed to forget the sensation after coughing for a few seconds. He removed the wooden pipe and turned in his seat to find the pair arguing.

"You hit him!" Pippin said.

"He was choking. This was all your idea!" Merry argued.

Eragon rolled his eyes. "If it's all the same to the two of you, it was _my_ fault. I suddenly remembered that I hate smoking. This must be a powerfully addictive substance. You argue too much," he added as an afterthought, letting out a final cough.

"Ah, it's all in good fun," Merry said, waving a hand. "Which reminds me..." he said, with a knowing look at his cousin.

"Hmm? Ah, yes!" Pippin said, realisation dawning.

"What are you planning this time?" Frodo deadpanned, appearing with a pair of tankards. He gave one to Eragon, who accepted gratefully.

"Just wait and see," Merry said with a wink.

Eragon took a drink as they both departed. "Would you like me to clatter the two of them?"

"Only if they do anything dangerous."

"The chances being...?"

"Well," Frodo said thoughtfully, "usually, I might say rather low... but since it _is_ Merry and Pippin, probably higher than usual."

Eragon grinned and, without realising, put the pipe between his teeth again.

"I've been wondering: what does your ring signify?" Frodo asked curiously.

Eragon almost started at the mentioning of the word 'ring', before realising Frodo was referring to Aren. Eragon shifted his glance to the sapphire jewel on a band of gold, and ran his forefinger over the smooth surface. The design always ensnared his imagination.

"It was left to me by my father after he died," Eragon said quietly. "It's of Elven make, and can hold massive stores of energy."

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked, frowning. "About the energy. I'm sorry about your father."

Eragon blinked. "Oh, nothing... many Elven jewels have power of their own, and this ring is no exception. Beyond that, I cannot explain."

Frodo nodded. "Very well. I'm sorry to disturb you so, Eragon, but I must ask: do you carry your blade everywhere?"

"Yes," Eragon said, not willing to elaborate.

Frodo hesitated, but then gave another nod and asked no further. "Hah, watch this."

Eragon raised his eyebrows as Frodo walked quietly over to where Sam was sitting, watching a pretty woman – or so Eragon thought; it was difficult to tell with Hobbits – dance with a larger group. Suddenly, Frodo helped the gardener to his feet and pushed him towards her, much to Sam's chagrin. Sam was swept away with the crowd, looking very surprised indeed.

Eragon chuckled at the sight.

Suddenly, a soft hand tapped him on the shoulder and he looked around.

"Pardon, my lord," said an elderly Hobbit woman. "I was hoping you could maybe dance with my Bella? She's awful fond of the Elves, and these old bones are too tired to waltz with the crowd."

Eragon hesitated. Bella was only a child, maybe the size of a toddler, so he didn't want to disappoint at such a merry occasion. Going by the look of wonder he was receiving, tears would surely follow. The only problem was that he didn't know how to dance very well; he wasn't about to refuse, so hopefully The Rimgar might give him some directions.

Against his better judgement, Eragon nodded. "I would be delighted," he said, standing up and giving a short bow. The child gave a wide smile of delight, and Eragon felt his heart lighten. With grace, he reached down and lifted her up.

_She weighs less than a feather! _he remarked.

Eragon found it very awkward to dance with the Hobbits nearby, as they spread out to give him space, many watching apprehensively. Ignoring the disconcert, he twirled Bella around gently, causing her to laugh with giddiness. Seeing that he truly did mean no harm, the Hobbits relaxed and returned to their own dances.

"Your mother seems to like me more than most of the people here," Eragon said, noting the bewilderment that surrounded him.

"She likes Elves," Bella said, her shyness in speaking proving her youth.

Suddenly, Eragon swore to himself and drew her close in a protective stance. A loud whoosh had sounded from behind, and hot sparks were scattered across the grass, which mercifully refused to catch fire. The noise alone startled the young Rider, but the shrieks of Hobbits around him had Eragon putting a hand to Brisingr, which he wore across his back. He hesitated after looking up. A tent seemed to be flying through the air, but then it split apart, leaving a massive dragon-like shape to take form.

Eragon's heart gave a lurch, before he noticed the trails of sparks emanating from the creature's rear.

It was a firework!

Bella screamed as the dragon, which many took for real, lurched around and began to swoop down on their position.

"Don't worry! It can't hurt us," Eragon said, although he knew there might be a problem if it exploded directly overhead. She didn't need to hear that, however. Caught in two minds between revealing his magic and diving onto the grass to protect the girl, he set his mind and prepared to put a shield around the area.

Thankfully, that proved unnecessary. The firework turned upwards at the last moment and soared into the distance, losing its shape. It exploded after a few seconds, and showers of green and red decorated the night sky like a multitude of glittering jewels. The cries of shock and fear turned into gasps of delight all around, and Eragon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Go to your mother," he said, allowing Bella to run back to her family.

Growling, he turned and stalked in the direction of where the tent had been, only to find none other than Merry and Pippin, covered in soot and nodding appreciatively.

"That was good."

"Let's get another one."

Eragon almost began to shout, but he was beaten to the punch by Gandalf, who arrived from behind the two and grabbed their ears with his fingertips, to cries of discomfort.

"Well, well. What have we here? Meriadoc Brandybuck... and Peregrin Took. I might have known," he said, nodding to himself. "The two of you can't seem to go an occasion without trying to steal the stage, so I think it's high time you were kept out of trouble. A giant party means giant amounts of cutlery to be washed."

The cousins groaned in unison, but stopped as Gandalf gripped their ears again. "Away with you both! And do ensure you don't skip on your duties, for I'll be along in but a moment."

He released them, and they scurried off to where he had pointed.

"Ah, they truly are the most troublesome Hobbits I've ever met," Gandalf said, standing next to Eragon. He glanced towards the 'Elf'. "How are you finding tonight, Eragon?"

Eragon nodded. "It's been... exhilarating."

Gandalf smiled. "It's never dull, for sure."

"I've let it lie all evening, but the message..."

"It was delivered and accepted," Gandalf nodded. "Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel will both know of you by the morning, and of Saphira. They can both be trusted, so do not worry," he added, catching Eragon's look of shock.

Eragon hesitated, before accepting the news. "Very well. And our next move?"

"There have been no reports of The Nine anywhere west of Gondor, so you are safe. Now we wait," Gandalf said.

"Very well, I'll trust your word," Eragon said. "I think you've earned that much, at least. Also, I need some time and whatever meat can be spared without being conspicuous."

"Ah," Gandalf said, realisation dawning. "I anticipated this. Two sides of beef have been set aside on the opposite side of the field, hidden behind a Roseberry bush. If you can manage both, that should prove sufficient for now, I trust."

"That'll do very nicely, thank you. I'd best go now, in fact. It's quieter outside the field, so there's less chance we'll be spotted."

"You'll miss Bilbo's speech," Gandalf pointed out.

"Ah... I never was a fan of those," Eragon grinned.

* * *

"_This sure is a beautiful place," _Eragon said, gazing out over the Shire. Stars were out in force that night, although the constellations looked different to what he knew.

Behind him, Saphira tore into the meat he had brought her, splattering blood over the grass.

"_Well... _something_ of a beautiful place."_

Saphira looked up at him and growled, before returning to her meal. After a few minutes, she crunched on the bones and proceeded to stretch out on the ground, contented. The two of them sat on top of a hill, quite difficult to reach if the Hobbits' height was anything to go by in relation to climbing abilities. Eragon had only managed the ascent due to help from Saphira, and she had only bothered to give him a ride for the meat he carried.

"_What say you regarding our old friend?" _Saphira asked suddenly.

"_Who, Gandalf? I think he seems like a noble and virtuous man. I have no qualms with him. He's either genuinely good at heart, or the best, and therefore worst spy that I've ever heard tell of."_

"_I would agree, but I've yet to meet him."_

"_He said that'll happen soon enough, if you consent. And please tell me you will. I want your firsthand opinion of our new 'ally'," _Eragon said.

"_Of course I will, soon."_

"_When?"_

"_...soon." _

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Don't forget we're going to be here for the rest of our lives, Saphira. You're not going to be able to hide forever," he said aloud.

"_I'm not hiding!" _she protested. _"I'm ensuring no one tries to cut me down on first sight."_

"_Yeah... hiding, in other words. Don't worry. I agree with the decision, obviously."_

"_Hah. Obviously. We need to plan before we act. I won't be caught out like a duck-footed hatchling," _Saphira said.

Eragon was silent for a moment. _"I'd never let that happen to you, I swear it."_

Saphira hummed in contention at that. _"I know, little one. And it works both ways. We protect each other, no matter what."_

"_No matter what," _Eragon repeated.

After that they sat in silence for a while, content to be in one another's company. Eragon took some time to ponder the secrets of Middle-Earth, Hobbits in particular. It was certainly an interesting history, but he was tired from a very long day, and quickly withdrew from the contact. After all, he had an eternity to study this new home.

"_Maybe it would be better if we did that ourselves," _Saphira wondered. _"Arya refused to give you her experience when you approached her after the Blood-Oath Celebration. This shows why. It's not the same as gathering the information yourself."_

"_Maybe",_ Eragon replied, in no mood to talk about Arya and what might have been. _"But maybe I should go back for now. They'll be wondering where I am."_

Saphira gave him a few minutes to gather himself, scrutinising him closely. She loved him; of that, there could be no doubt. And because of that it was in her nature to worry for his well-being. They had one another to look out for, and no other to help. If she had her way, they wouldn't rely on the help of _any_ other, as welcome as that might be. She knew Eragon well enough to know he was hurting over Arya, and those left behind.

She sent out as much comfort as she could muster through their connection, and he relaxed immediately.

"_Be brave, little one," _she whispered.


End file.
